Kurfew
by Icicle Raindream
Summary: Omi learns that sometimes a curfew isn't necessarily a bad thing. *shounen ai*


Kurfew

By: Icicle Raindream

WARNING: This fic contains shounen ai material. If you don't care for male/male relationships, I suggest you not read this. However, if you love this type of thing, go for it!

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Omi dragged his heels as he turned a corner for the umpteenth time that night. The cement beneath his shoes was wet with the day's earlier rain, and he dragged a careless hand through his still damp hair. He couldn't see the street sign on the other side of the road, and so he glanced down at the crumpled mush of paper that was clutched in his left hand. The black writing had smeared, leaving him a piece of paper that was half falling apart with its written contents resembling a Rorschach test, and he sighed in annoyance and crumpled the degraded sheet into his back pocket. Feeling the maroon velour underneath his fingertips reminded him of how ashamed he should have been. He was walking around on streets where people could actually see him dressed like this.

Then the pounding of heavy music caught his ears and he looked away from his torturous outfit. Perhaps he had finally made his way unknowingly to the right place!

Omi continued walking down the dark road until he reached a place set on yet another corner, a small building that flashed the dark street in front of it with bright colors, blinking red, then blue, then yellow, and then all three at the same time, and repeating the pattern. The lights seemed to match the beat of the pop music coming from inside, and Omi craned his neck to try and see into the high-set windows on the face of the building. No luck. He couldn't make out any bodies inside, although he could tell by the conglomerated sound of voices talking, drinks clinking, and music playing that the place was packed. This _had_ to be the right place. He hadn't found any others like this in the four hours he had been traversing practically the whole city.

Suddenly the front door of the building flung open and a huge, burly-looking man stepped outside, holding a body that was desperately trying to get out of his grasp, crying out in terror. Omi watched in horror as the thick looking bouncer tossed the noisy intruder onto the curb and spat in his direction.

"Don't ever wanna see your skinny ass 'round here again," the bouncer growled at him, folding his arms. "You've disturbed enough of our girls, now scram."

The small body on the ground sat up quickly, and Omi saw pure fright in the man's eyes. He glanced at the bouncer, then at Omi, then shot to his feet and raced away into the night, his voice screaming at the top of his lungs. Omi could barely move at the sight as the man tripped himself and crawled away into an alley, still whimpering with pain.

"Hey, now…you're pretty cute, boy."

Omi jerked his head over his shoulder and swallowed hard at the bouncer, who stood facing him with a smile pasted across his face.

"You wanna come in and join the party?" The bouncer's smile widened and he winked devilishly. Omi swallowed again, unable to locate his voice at the moment.

"Hey, it's all right, man. Come on in." The bouncer backed away from Omi to the front door, which was still slightly ajar. He pushed it open all the way behind him. "You look harmless."

Omi took a tentative step forward, his heart pounding against his ribs in time with the music still pumping from the club. He couldn't believe he was going to go through with this.

"First time, eh?" The bouncer chuckled. "Enjoy the ride."

Omi tried not to cower under the bouncer as he passed by him through the doorway. He thought he was safely through until a strong hand swiftly slapped his rear end and gave it a sharp squeeze. Omi jumped and looked back at the bouncer, who just laughed and turned away, the door closing behind him. Omi was engulfed in darkness.

Soon it was replaced by smoky multi-colored lighting, flashing bright and dim in Omi's eyes as it changed pace with the music that throbbed from the amplifiers set at the front of the club, on the dance floor, which was past the bar. Omi blinked and tried to search through the mass throng of people in front of him, looking for anyone who resembled his classmates. He could still hear their voices taunting in his head earlier that afternoon.

_"Yeah, there's this new killer nightclub in town. Just built. We gotta go check it out. They say it's where all the chicks hang. You comin', Tsukiyono?"_

Omi had looked at his friend Rei and shook his head, preparing to dismiss the whole conversation from his attention, until Rei took him by surprise and tugged on his jacket sleeve.

_"Come on, Omi," _Rei had begged. _"You hafta come with us. Don'tcha wanna meet some fine lookin' babes?"_

"You guys go without me," Omi replied. _"Have fun picking up…babes."_

Rei had laughed and slapped his arm. _"Come on, Tsukiyono…live a little bit. You can't tell me that you can't get off work. It's only for one night. 'Sides, you can't stay a virgin forever."_

Omi had given him a look of slight disgust, but it was mixed with laughter. Rei was, had always been, and would always be, a jokester. Always ready to pick on Omi, who was the poster child for the slogan "Mama's Boy", while Rei himself was constantly slobbering over…babes. Or whatever fit his definition of a babe. Omi found his tastes to be slightly…odd at times, but Rei was still his friend, and the puppy dog look on his face had been enough for Omi to grit his teeth. He vaguely remembered agreeing to meet Rei at the new nightclub, and accepted the piece of paper Rei had shoved at him with the directions scribbled on it.

_"Eight o'clock, Tsukiyono. And don't be late, otherwise I'm bringing the chicks to your place. No girl can resist flowers."_

And it seemed as if no girl could resist this place, either. Omi continued to push himself along through the crowd, thinking that maybe Rei and his friends would already be on the dance floor, considering he was four hours late. He hoped in the back of his mind that Rei hadn't kept his promise and showed up at the flower shop with armfuls of girls. He'd have a hell of a time explaining _that_ to Aya and Ken. And they wouldn't be so forgiving, not with Aya's cold scowl and Ken's simmering blush. Omi was sure that's how the both of them would react, and he didn't want to face it.

"Hey, sugar, you lookin' for somebody?"

A semi-sweet voice caught Omi's attention and he stopped in his tracks. A tall, slinky body stepped in front of him, the stiletto heels clicking against the thinly carpeted floor.

All Omi saw was a chest. He blinked and looked up into the face of the person, his eyes taking in the tight pink plastic halter top that was hardly covering the cleavage on the way. Instinctively he took a step back as one hand reached out to him and dragged a long fingernail lightly down his cheek. Cheap perfume scented the air.

"What, you don't like my outfit, honey?"

The girl in front of him pouted, her silvery hair shining with glitter as it fell around her shoulders, over the pink plastic jacket flaps. She twirled around in front of him, showing off her silver high-heeled boots and pink fishnet stockings and _extremely_ short pink plastic miniskirt. Her belly was tight and muscled and exposed as the halter top did its best to conceal the girl's large bosom. The jacket hung around the girl's shoulders stiffly, the plastic not yet broken in. Her purse, which was silver, dangled through her fingers as she stopped spinning and faced Omi, giving him a coy grin.

"You mute, cutie-pie?"

Omi swallowed again, unsure of the best spot to put his eyes. He decided looking over his shoulder was better than looking directly at her and he shook his head. She was perfectly attractive, and Omi didn't want to have anything to do with her.

"You're sweet," she cried, reaching out and ruffling his hair. "But you must be new. None of the new boys talk. Don't worry, Darla over there will take care of you." The girl jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the bar. Her pink fingernails sparkled silver in the dim blue and red lights, and then she giggled and walked away from Omi. He looked towards the bar.

A dark-haired woman stood behind it, shoveling out drinks to men and women dressed similarly to the girl he'd just met. He walked slowly over to the bar and approached the counter.

"What'll it be?" the woman asked him, wiping her hands on a bar rag.

Omi just looked at her, his eyes trailing over her green polo shirt with the huge white letters "KURFEW" spelled across the corner. The name of the nightclub.

Darla laughed good-naturedly. "You must be new. Here." She unearthed a long-stemmed wineglass from underneath the bar counter and placed it in front of him. It was full to the brim with a clear, bubbly liquid. "On the house."

Omi stared at the glass for a few seconds, trying to decide whether or not to accept the drink.

"It's only sparkling water," Darla assured, then walked away to help a newly arrived customer at the other end of the bar.

Omi thought that maybe sipping the drink would help him settle into the atmosphere of the club and calm his nerves a bit, and so he climbed onto the barstool and lifted the glass. He swallowed a mouthful and liked it. Darla smiled at him from across the way, then turned back to her other customers. 

After Omi had finished his water, he turned to the side and was about to jump off the stool to continue his search for missing friends when a voice stopped him cold, sending a streak of lightning to his heart. The voice rattled something off to Darla that sounded like French, or some kind of foreign language, and Omi quickly turned to face his empty glass again. Maybe contact could be avoided if he just sat and didn't move a muscle.

No such luck…again. The body that belonged with the voice cleverly sat down on the stool next to Omi, and out of the corner of his eye Omi saw the long leg stretch gracefully down to the floor while the other curled casually up on the rung on the stool. Omi brought his right hand up to his face and tried to shield himself, silently praying that the man next to him wouldn't notice or recognize him from Adam.

Darla handed the man his drink, which was an exotic swirl of purple and blue liquid with an umbrella and a stirring straw, and then glanced over at him.

"Another?" she asked, giving him a big smile.

"No, thank you," Omi replied tightly, trying to remain polite. He slouched lower over the countertop, and then suddenly his fears came true.

"Oi…Omi?!"

He cringed at the sound of his name, having heard it said by this voice many times before, in many different situations, but never like this. The tone of the voice was a mix of pleasant shock and knowing acceptance.

Omi dropped his hand and glanced over at the man next to him, trying to look nonchalant, as if he hadn't noticed anything. "Oh, Yohji-kun," he managed to sputter, then turned his face away from his comrade as his cheeks heated up in full blush.

"Omi…I-I didn't know…you never told me you came here!"

He felt like he was being laughed at, and a bit angrily, swung himself off the barstool and landed his feet on the floor. "Never again," Omi muttered under his breath, but Yohji caught the words and acted on them.

"No, wait." Yohji stood up next to him and grabbed his arm. "You don't have to go."

Omi glanced at him, looked into his face as Yohji smiled brightly.

"Stay," Yohji encouraged. "It's all good." His smile grew wider as he recognized Omi's thoughtful look as it spread across his face. "Come on…stay. It'll be our little secret."

"I-I don't know…Yohji-kun. I've never done this before."

Yohji tugged playfully on his arm. "That's all right. First time for everything, right?" He looked Omi over, up and down, studying his clothes. "You _look_ like you've done this before, there's no doubt about that."

Omi couldn't tell whether or not that was a compliment or an insult, and glanced down at his clothes, embarrassed. He looked back up at Yohji as he grinned slyly at the younger boy and took a step back, approving whole-heartedly of Omi's shameful appearance.

Around Omi's neck was a thick leather strap with a gleaming silver buckle on the front, and his shirt was a tight, short, gray top that left his belly button open to the air. The dark maroon velour pants were seamless, having no zippers or buttons on the front as they hugged Omi's muscled legs, then flared down over the black boots on his feet. Over the gray shirt was a maroon velour vest that matched the pants, and strapped on his right arm was a cuff that resembled the one on his neck with two buckles, and a thin strip of leather was tied tightly around his upper left arm. The black headband around his head was pushed up under his bangs, making them fall rather seductively into his eyes, and Yohji decided Omi looked good enough to eat. He wanted this to be the best first experience he'd ever given anyone at a nightclub.

Yohji let go of his arm then and sat back down on his stool, taking up his weird looking drink. Omi followed suit, and when Darla came over to chat, Yohji tapped on her shoulder and whispered something into her ear, making sure to sweep his hand through her hair and wink. She grinned back at him and then disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a glass in her hand, full to the top with red sparkly liquid. There was a strawberry stuck on the rim of the glass, one side of it dipping into the whipped cream which threatened to spill over the edge onto the counter. She smiled at Omi and then stepped away as he blinked confusedly at it.

"Drink up," Yohji said, grinning. "It won't kill you."

Omi decided he didn't want to look bad in front of Yohji or insult Darla, so he picked up the frosty glass and sipped his drink. It tasted like tangy strawberry fruit juice, and even thought Omi knew it contained alcohol, he continued to drink it down, following Yohji's example as the older boy casually glanced around at the club, observing people as they walked by observing him in return. Omi had once wondered how Yohji had gained his pretty-boy status, and the way Yohji sent his dashing smile of pearly white teeth and implied suggestions to the men and women passing by the bar answered his question on the spot. Yohji looked decidedly…_sexy_ tonight.

Omi shook his head a little, taking himself by surprise. He had never thought anything like that about his friends, his teammates, but he felt now as if he couldn't _help_ but think that. He glanced over his shoulder at Yohji, who swirled his stirring straw in the remains of his beverage, and smiled to himself. He should feel _good_ about his outfit because Yohji had complimented it, and the older boy himself looked stunning.

Omi recognized the style as hidden Weiss gear, but nobody would have known it just by looking. Yohji's top was crystal white and almost transparent, stopping just under his ribs and hugging him tightly, showing off his hard stomach and disgustingly well-toned arms. The gold pants clung to his hips and hugged his body all the way down over his boots, the glitter that weaved into the fabric shining under the lights. Around Yohji's belly was a silver chain with a tiny white cross hanging from the middle. It was a simple enough outfit, but it was Yohji's persona that brought it to life. He _screamed_ attention, just sitting there at the bar with one leg crossed over the other with one finger resting on the rim of his glass, shooting smiles to people as they passed by him to join in on the dancing mob that drowned the wooden dance floor.

Yohji ordered another drink of the same for Omi and himself, then sat back to watch as Omi lifted the glass and drank it without hesitation. He grinned as he felt two hands sliding around his waist and a nose snuggling into his neck. Omi looked over and almost choked on his drink, setting it hastily onto the counter before him.

"Hey, there, you," a semi-sweet voice whispered in Yohji's ear. "I'm beginnin' to miss my dance partner."

Yohji grinned at the girl as her silvery hair fell onto his shoulder and brushed against his cheek, her nails coming up against his other one. Omi watched as the girl lowered her mouth to his and buried it under her silver lipstick. He had to look away. It was a disturbing sight for someone his age.

Omi downed the rest of his glass and clunked it down in front of him, then slid off his stool. Yohji and his companion had come up for air, and glancing at Omi, she exclaimed, "Hey, cutie-pie! You finally settlin' in?"

"You met Omi?" Yohji asked her, looking back and forth between the two. The girl straightened and hugged her too-small pink plastic jacket around her, her silver bag still dangling from one hand. She nodded enthusiastically, sending Omi a huge friendly grin.

"Yeah. Poor sweetie looked totally lost."

Omi wiped his mouth clear of whipped cream, uncertain if he should say anything. In fact, he wasn't so sure he _could_ say anything as his vision had begun to sway a bit, and his hand clenched onto the outer rim of the bar for balance.

"Why don't we all just hit the dance floor, then?" Yohji suggested, standing up next to his girl. Even with her heels, Omi noted that Yohji was still a full head taller than she was, and she extended her hand for Yohji's. He took it, and motioned for Omi to follow as she began pulling him towards the floor.

"You haven't lived until you've danced here," Yohji shouted as the music grew in volume, still beating through the club from the amps.

"What's her name?" Omi shouted back as he grabbed onto Yohji's outstretched hand.

Yohji spoke over his shoulder as they pushed through the herd of people, clamoring for a spot in the middle of the dance floor. "Sophia," he yelled, putting the accent on the first half of her name. "We dance here a lot."

"You mean she's not your girlfriend?" Omi shouted back.

"No way!" Sophia said back to him, grinning. She wrapped her arms around Yohji's neck and pulled him in close, proceeding to grind her hips against him to the beat of the music. "Yohji's just the finest-lookin', best bad-ass dancer in this whole place, that's all. He's the one who broke me in."

Omi shook his head and blinked, willing the naughty thoughts out of his head. The term "broke me in" had begun to implant dirty pictures into his mind, and he momentarily felt like a scumbag until both his arms were suddenly wrenched in front of him. Sophia and Yohji sandwiched him, both still dancing. Omi didn't know what to do for a second and glanced up at Yohji, who faced him.

"Relax," Yohji shouted. "Just dance."

Omi felt Sophia's nails slide their way through the back of his hair and shivered, then began to mimic Yohji's movements, liking the way it looked, hoping he looked the same. Yohji took one of his hands and held it up in the air, sliding his fingers in between Omi's, causing sparks.

Sophia proceeded to get closer and closer to Yohji until Omi was basically pressed against him, front to front. Omi let his head fall onto Yohji's chest, the crystal white shirt smooth and cool underneath his cheek as he breathed in Yohji's cologne. No wonder the girls went mad around Yohji. He smelled _delicious_.

Sophia's hands left Omi's hair and reached for Yohji's, which he'd left loose tonight, and Omi put his arms around Yohji, liking the way he danced back against him while still paying attention to them both. The music surged around them as Yohji's hands came to play with Omi's hair, twisting locks around his fingers and tugging gently. It almost drove Omi through the floor as the song blasted through his ears.

"They're playing my song!" Sophia shouted then, and they all tuned into the lyrics to find out what she meant.

__

…No no no Babe…

Ai dake nozomo kanaderu Sophia

Ai dake ubaou karameru Phobia

Ai dake fureyou mayoeru Genius

Ai dake nokosou yurameku yo India

Donna namida mo utsukushiku nare

Hitoshizuku dake mune ni ochite

Babe Babe Babe Babe

No no no Babe

Sophia grinned down at Omi as he glanced upwards at her. "See?" she asked him, and he nodded drunkenly. It was starting to get very warm in between the two of them and he couldn't shake it off. This time he watched as Sophia leaned over and took Yohji's mouth again. It was interesting from his point of view. He'd never seen anything like _that_. Briefly, he wondered what it was like before he was distracted by something else.

Yohji's hands left his hair and slid down his front, pushing him back a bit, up against Sophia. He glanced down as her hands came around him and slid up his shirt as Yohji's hands slid behind him and grabbed his rear end. He blinked sleepily at their actions and did not protest, liking Yohji's hands there better than the bouncer's. He felt connected to Yohji in some way, something just a tad more than friendship. Perhaps it was understanding. Yohji hadn't asked what he was doing here or grilled him on any details, he just accepted the fact that Omi was dressed to kill and already in the club and took matters into his own hands. Omi mentally thanked him for it, especially as Sophia's hands continued to rub over his hot skin underneath his shirt, and Yohji's hands stayed put in their place as they danced. The music continued to pound all around them, and Omi held onto Yohji's arms in front of him, digging his nails into the skin as Sophia began to nibble on his shoulder. Yohji grinned at him and slid his hands up his back, wracking Omi's small body with shivers and making him smile sleepily.

"Told ya he was good," Sophia whispered to Omi as she kissed his neck. "He's a very good teacher, ne?"

"Uh-huh." Omi barely managed to answer her as Yohji's hands squeezed his sides.

"Have you had too much to drink, honey?" she inquired, smiling at him.

"Uh-uh." Omi shook his head, blinking.

"You want some more?" She sucked on the skin where shoulder met neck.

"Mm-hm." Omi nodded as Yohji grinned harder at him, smoothing his big hands over Omi's flat stomach.

"Back in a jiffy," Sophia said, voice dripping with sugar. "I'd take advantage of this if I were you." She giggled.

"Whaa…" Omi was unable to voice his question as Sophia scooted out from behind him and took his balance with her. Fortunately, Yohji caught him and twisted him around, pulling Omi's back to his front, never once breaking his dance rhythm. Omi leaned back against Yohji, feeling as if his energy was slowly but surely being sucked out of him as the music throbbed through the crowded dancers on the floor.

Yohji's hands squeezed Omi's upper arms, then rubbed down them, held onto his sides, then smoothed over the soft velour of Omi's dark pants. Yohji's hands gripped his hips and slid down his thighs, digging his fingertips into Omi's clothed flesh, making Omi feel like falling dead asleep on the floor beneath them. It was too intoxicating for him and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

But then, he didn't have to worry about his eyes. He clenched them shut as Yohji brought his hands up over his chest, pushing Omi against him, and then held onto his shoulders, bringing Omi around to face him. Omi instinctively brought his own arms up and hugged Yohji to him while one of Yohji's hands brushed over his cheek.

"Yohji-kun…"

"Having a good time, Omi?" There was a splash of devil in Yohji's tone, and he couldn't help but smile at himself. Sometimes, he was just _too_ good.

Omi nodded against his chest, still dancing with him eagerly. "This is…fun."

"Good."

Omi looked up at him as he opened his eyes and smiled. Yohji's hand was back on his cheek in a flash, pulling his head up towards him. Omi held on tighter, feeling as if he was about to keel over any moment. His wonderment before, about what it was like to kiss Yohji, was banished forever from his mind as Yohji took his mouth gently, pressing his lips to him. Omi kissed back with heightened fervor, and Yohji held back from breaking into a laugh. Omi was just too cute and too innocent for this place, even as Yohji slipped his tongue into his mouth, gliding it over Omi's straight teeth. But Yohji was glad that Omi had bumped into him on his first time, instead of going somewhere different with someone else. The poor guy might have been taken advantage of terribly, and Yohji had no intention of doing that. Not to his teammate, his friend, his…what were they now? Just another couple, like he and Sophia?

Who knew. Who cared. They both just enjoyed kissing each other, uncaring of the people who bumped and grinded around them. They danced against each other, Omi's hands clinging onto the back of Yohji's shirt, Yohji's hands tugging tenderly at Omi's light colored locks. When Sophia brought back drinks, they both snatched for one and began to gulp it greedily, needing air as much as something to quench their thirst. Sophia grinned at the two of them and laughed. She knew exactly what had been going on while she was away.

Omi groped for the both of them again and they began their dance routine anew, cuddling him in between the way he liked it. He could still taste Sophia's lipstick from Yohji's mouth, and he licked his lips drowsily, lapping at the sticky sweetness of it. To think, a few hours before he had been dreading this whole night. Now he could barely focus on what had happened, but it didn't matter. He liked it all too much to care.

And his friends? Any thought pertaining to them had been temporarily abolished from his mind.

***

The next morning, Omi rolled over in bed and picked up the phone, blinking through the sleep in his eyes. He opened his mouth and promptly answered with, "Hullk."

"Mornin' Tsukiyono!" Rei's voice rung in his ears in an accusatory manner. "Just where did you scuttle off to last night? Did you forget that you were supposed to meet me somewhere?"

Omi swallowed the frog in his throat and cleared it. "Your directions were bad," he explained tiredly. "You got me so lost I wound up walking all over the city practically all night."

"Oh, man!!" Rei exclaimed, so loud it hurt Omi's ears. "Sorry about that, buddy!"

"S'okay," Omi mumbled, even though it was technically a half-lie. Rei's directions weren't all _that_ bad, considering where Omi had found himself last night.

"Didja go somewhere with mega-hot babes anyway?" Rei asked hopefully. Omi could feel Rei's elbow as it jabbed him in his side, an illusion brought to life by his mind.

"Naw, I'm still a… virgin," Omi lied through a yawn.

"What!!" Rei shouted.

"What?" Omi asked, still only half-awake.

"Whoa, Omi…what's got you?" Rei sounded half concerned.

"Nothing," Omi replied, wanting just to go back to sleep. "But I can't go out tonight, so don't bother trying to pick me up or anything."

Rei sighed in disgust. "You gotta work tonight?" he whined.

"Yeah," Omi replied, fibbing, "and I've got a _kurfew_. Bye."

Omi hung up the phone and rolled back over. He snuggled back onto Yohji's warm body, where he slept in Omi's bed next to him. Last night, when Yohji had told him that he slept in the nude, Omi had thought he was kidding. 

But last night had not been the night to doubt Yohji. He had opened a whole new world up to Omi, and damn it…Omi liked it.

He also liked "sleeping" in the nude as well.

"^-~"

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Notes: In case any of you are wondering, the lyrics I used in this fic are from the Weiss Kreuz song "Slim", which is sung by Yuuki Hiro and Miki Shin'ichiro, who ironically play Omi and Yohji respectfully, who, ironically, this fic is about! I just thought it would be a cute addition. And the song is really cool and has a great techno beat, something perfect to play at a nightclub.


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